A young country boy from Georgia goes off to college at Georgia Southern. Halfway through the semester, he has foolishly squandered all his money. He calls home. “Dad,” he says, “You won’t believe what modern education is developing! They actually have a program here in Statesboro that will teach our dog, Ol’ Blue how to talk!”

“That’s amazing,” his dad says. “How do we get Ol’ Blue in that program?”

“Just send him down here with $1,000,” the young cowboy says. “I’ll get him in the course.”

So his father sends the dog and $1,000. About two-thirds of the way through the semester, the money again runs out. The boy calls home.

“So how’s Ol’ Blue doing son?” his father asks. “Awesome, Dad, he’s talking up a storm,” the young man says, “but you just won’t believe this – they’ve had such good results they have started to teach the animals how to read!”

“Read!?” says his father, “No kidding! How do we get Blue into that program?”

“Just send $2,500, I’ll get him in the class.” The money promptly arrives. But our hero has a problem. At the end of the year, his father will find out the dog can neither talk, nor read… so he shoots the dog.

When he arrives home at the end of the year, his father is all excited. “Where’s Ol’ Blue? I just can’t wait to see him read something and talk!”

“Dad,” the boy says, “I have some grim news. Yesterday morning, just before we left to drive home, Ol’ Blue was in the living room, kicked back in the recliner, reading the Wall Street Journal, like he usually does. Then he turned to me and asked, ‘So, is your daddy still messing’ around with that young lady who lives lives in town?”
The father exclaimed, “I hope you shot that S.O.B. before he talks to your Mother!”

“I sure did, Dad!”

“That’s my boy!”

The kid went on to be a successful lawyer in Savannah, and then when he retired went into politics out on Tybee.

This story always reminds me of my time living on our farm in Eastover, S.C. and hunting and fishing with three older gentlemen: Bright Stevenson, Ducky Nelson and the game warden in our county, Billy Tolar. We would all go fishing or hunting every Thursday afternoon and cook that evening whatever we brought back. The dinner was the social event of the week for friends living miles around.

One particular Thursday we had planned to go squirrel hunting. Ducky Nelson had informed us that he had been given a new champion squirrel dog to try out named Lucky. Ducky said that he had given the man $50.00 to try him out and if he was as good as the owner said, Ducky could purchase him for $300.00.

With great anticipation of being able to hunt with a prized hunting champion as Lucky, we couldn’t wait. We all gathered at our starting point and where waiting around for Ducky to arrive with Lucky and sure enough he pulls up in his pickup truck gets out and walks up to us. We didn’t see a dog and I asked where Lucky was. Well, Ducky reached in his pocket and pulled out the smallest Chihuahua you have ever seen. Not only was this dog about the size of a squirrel itself, but it had one eye, a leg missing, was about fifteen years old and had bruises, scratches and knots all over him. It was the ugliest animal I had ever seen. Well after a great deal of laughing and kidding with Ducky about the dog, Ducky let him loose. Sure enough that dog took off a howling and barking into the woods. We never saw or heard that dog again. I think the man had Lucky trained to run home as soon as he was set loose.